Alternate
by Bukkunkun
Summary: Series of oneshots spawned from creative imagination. Alfred swallowed, suddenly realising his mouth had gone dry. "… Man. I'm not sure if Mr. Xavier is a saint or my personal escort to hell." USUK AU
1. Guns and Roses

And here we are with the first winner!

7. Guns and Roses (Prompt: Gunslingers VS. Zombies!AU with Gun expert in tiny sexy leather shorts!Arthur and Newbie!Alfred)

Seventh place! (Actually, it's tied with another prompt, there was a tie and frankly, I don't give a crap for tiebreakers)

* * *

It all happened in a flash.

One minute, Alfred was having a go at zombies on his PS3, and the next thing he knew, he was face-to-face with one, gurgling disgustingly at him as it lunged at him, and the blonde teen's eyes widened.

_Freaking hell, this bullshit is not happening_, he thought to himself exasperatedly, as he leaned backwards in shock, dropping the wireless controller he held in his shaking hands, as he let out a scream—

Three gunshots rang in his ears, half-deafening him, and the zombie about to bite him suddenly slumped down on top of him, having its brains blasted out—right all over him.

Alfred panted heavily, pulling himself upright, still shaking in both shock and fear when someone stepped into his field of vision. Alfred blinked and his eyes focused to see a pair of creamy white legs standing right in front of him. The right thigh had a tattoo of a Tudor rose. He looked up to see who had saved him.

Beautiful vibrant green eyes looked down at him. They belonged to a fair-skinned young man (most likely in his early twenties, Alfred guessed) with a rather effeminate body structure. His body was long and lanky, yet petite like a girl's, and his face was slightly heart-shaped. Brilliant eyebrows knotted together and brow creased under a mop of tousled sandy blonde hair, the man offered his hand to Alfred.

He blinked blankly, and suddenly he realised how… revealing what the blonde was wearing was. He wore black, slim, form-fitting leather _short_ shorts that were barely two inches lower than his crotch, displaying creamy white toned legs—the tattoo easy to see, clear as day; the Tudor rose was a vibrant shade of red (borderline fresh-blood-red) and its thorny stem (green almost like the man's eyes) snaked down the side of his thigh until it reached the back of the man's knee. His tank top was also made of leather and there was a loose collar around his neck.

"Come on, up," he ordered, snapping Alfred out of his trance. Alfred realised the blonde had a British accent. Alfred took his hand and the blonde pulled him up to his feet—and suddenly turned to fire at an approaching zombie with his semi-automatic machine gun. The zombie fell, its brains oozing out of its head, and the blonde turned his attention back to Alfred. "Run over there, don't stop until you get to base," he said, before pushing Alfred in the direction of a nearby walled fortress. Alfred didn't need to be told twice and broke out into a full sprint. He could hear the blonde running after him, shooting rounds left and right until they reached the campsite. Alfred realised it was surrounded by a tall wall with barbed wires at its top. He kept running forward, and straight through the open gates, where another blonde man was beckoning them in, yelling at them to hurry (Alfred heard a French accent from the man).

After the blonde with the gun rushed into the fortress, the gates immediately clamped shut. Alfred skidded to a halt. The blonde crashed into him, and the two of them tumbled to the ground.

The French man was laughing.

"Fabulous entry, _mon lapin_," he laughed, as the blonde got off Alfred, groaning. "Well done."

"Shut it!" the green-eyed blonde hissed at him, standing up, before turning his attention to Alfred. "So, are you the one?"

"H-huh, what?" Alfred blinked and the two men looked down at him expectantly. "… W-wait, what are you guys talking about, I'm not—"

"Is your name Alfred F. Jones?" the green-eyed blonde snapped at him, and Alfred nodded, gulping in fear.

"Y-yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?" Alfred asked.

"Well, you see, _mon ami_," The Frenchman spoke up, patting Alfred's shoulder. "It has to do with _everything_."

"The year is 2025," the Brit cut in, glaring at the Frenchman. "We've pulled you out from your time because we need you."

Alfred gaped at them. "T-t-2025?" he gasped, and the two sighed.

"Hmm, should have broken it to him a little more gently, eh?" a familiar voice asked, and Alfred turned to see his cousin Matthew—well, at least, a much older version of him, 13 years older, to be precise.

"Mattie?" he asked, blinking, and the blonde man chuckled, before helping him to his feet.

"Yeah, it's me." Matthew smiled at him, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "You see, the zombies out there—I'm sure Arthur had you acquainted with them," Matthew nodded in the green-eyed Brit's direction, Alfred turned to look at him, but Arthur averted his eyes, "They're all being created by a plant a few kilometres away from this camp," he gestured behind him, where rows and rows of tents and small makeshift buildings stood in the entire perimeter of the walls. Alfred gaped at them in wonder.

"S-so, um, you said this is the future?" Alfred asked, and Matthew nodded. "Then where am I?"

"O-oh, well, you're…"

"Dead," Arthur deadpanned, and Alfred whipped his head around to face him, shocked. "Oh, don't look so surprised. That moment when we pulled you out? That time where you were playing some silly game—"

"I'll have you know COD: Black Ops is a freakin' awesome game!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "That time when you were playing that, you were supposed to be assassinated." Alfred gaped at him.

"Why?"

"Because you're the only one who can stop this," Matthew continued, "You're the only one who can shut down that facility."

Alfred gaped at the three men standing around him.

"… I need a moment."

* * *

Alfred had been ushered into some tent he couldn't tell apart from the others, and there he settled down on a rickety bed, a sigh escaping his lips.

He's dead now? In this time frame? How could he possibly be the only one who can stop this? This, this… madness?

Alfred lay back on his bed, hundreds of thoughts going through his mind. Why him, out of all people? Why couldn't _they_ handle it by themselves? What went wrong?

He sighed again, and turned so he was lying on his side, the bed creaking slightly as he did.

… _That Arthur guy was really pretty._

Alfred blinked. "… I did _not _just think that."

_Oh, and he's actually pretty sexy, too. Those legs…_

Alfred sat upright, face red. "Aw, man. Seriously?"

He had known he was gay for some time now, but right now wasn't really the proper time to be thinking about such things! Lives were at stake here!

… Lives were at stake. Alfred looked down at his hands and lazily inspected them.

This would be an excellent time to do what he actually wanted, really. He'd always wanted to be a hero, and now that there was this chance being presented to him… he felt compelled to do something.

"Oh, for the love of God, Francis!" Alfred heard Arthur yell from outside, snapping him out of his reverie. Curious, Alfred stood up and lifted the flap of his tent aside to see the two blondes he met standing outside his tent, the Frenchman (the Francis Arthur was yelling at, Alfred guessed) holding the Brit by the shoulders in an iron grip, seemingly forcing the smaller blonde to enter Alfred's tent.

"Well, what do you know," Francis smirked, and a blush spread across Arthur's face. The Brit struggled even more to get out of Francis' grip. "It's the man himself. _Bonjour_, Alfred."

"H-hi. Mind telling me what you two are up to here?"

"Him," Francis simply stated, gesturing at Arthur, before pushing the blonde at Alfred, running away.

"H-hey! Get back here, wanker!"

"U-um, hey…" Alfred spoke up, and Arthur turned so fast Alfred feared the blonde's head might snap off. Arthur looked up at Alfred with slightly wild eyes, and Alfred laughed sheepishly. "… Uh, you guys did mention I was the only one who could help out, right?"

Arthur's eyes widened. "You've finally sorted yourself out, then."

"Pretty much." Alfred nodded, a smile crossing his face, and much to his surprise, so did Arthur's. A lovely smile crossed the blonde's face, and his green eyes lit up beautifully. Alfred found himself staring at Arthur.

"That's wonderful." Arthur breathed, and Alfred's mind began to not function.

"Yeah, and so are you," he replied, not thinking, and Arthur froze.

"… Excuse me?"

"I-I-I mean, shit, uh, c-can I talk to Matt? Let's get this shit done." Alfred grinned weakly at Arthur, and the green-eyed blonde blushed slightly.

"R-right," he nodded, turning to hide the blush that now grew on his pale face. "Follow me."

* * *

"This is wonderful, Al," Matthew smiled at his cousin, and Alfred weakly nodded. "Don't worry; we'll have the best backing you up. They'll definitely keep you safe the entire way through."

"But Matthew," Arthur spoke up, "We can't have too many people storming that hold." A frown marred his features. "You know what happened last time when we just tried to get the info about the core that we needed."

A heavy silence spread throughout the tent, and Alfred swallowed.

"S-setting aside that for now, what's the plan of action?"

"R-right," Matthew nodded, before laying out a map of the facility on the table they were standing around. "You need to get to the core," he pointed at a large structure on the top floor of the facility, "And shut it down. That will stop the production of the zombies definitely. After that, you can haul your ass out of there, because that's all you'll need to be doing." Matthew turned to address Francis. "You'll be leading two teams with Kiku," he said, and the Frenchman nodded. "You'll be standing by at the east and west entrances, and storm that hellhole for all it's worth the second Alfred shuts down that core. Clear out as many of them as you can, and secure Alfred's route out."

"_Oui_." Francis nodded, before turning to leave—

"Oh, and be careful." Matthew spoke up. "To you and Kiku both. I'll be leading the storm from the centre entrance."

"Roger that," Francis smiled at him, before waving at Arthur and Alfred. "_Au revoir_." He smiled at them. "I wish you two the best of luck."

"… You too." Arthur spoke up after a moment, and Francis chuckled, before stepping out of the tent.

"Now, about you, Alfred," Matthew spoke up, and the blue-eyed blonde snapped to attention. "I know Uncle George was a military man… are you one too?"

"You bet!" Alfred grinned. "Dad's taught me how to use a gun."

"I hope you'll be comfortable with semi-automatic machine guns." Matthew grinned. Alfred laughed.

"Oh, trust me. I can't freaking wait to get my hands on those the moment I saw Artie here handling them like a pro."

Arthur averted his eyes and a blush spread across his cheeks. Matthew smiled knowingly, before he nodded. "Okay. You and Arthur will make your way to the core together. Like Arthur said, we can't have too many people running around while you two storm that hold, got it?"

Alfred nodded. "I just have one question."

"Shoot."

"Why me? Why does it have to be specifically me?"

"That…" Matthew bit his lip, faltering. "I think it's best for you to find out yourself."

Alfred frowned, raising an eyebrow, but he didn't press for more, and instead, he stood up. "Come on, Artie, let's get suited up."

"D-don't call me that," Arthur protested, but followed Alfred out of the tent.

* * *

Alfred couldn't stop staring as he watched Arthur prepare. The blonde was currently pulling on a pair of high heeled boots that went up to his knees. He lifted his foot on a bench and tightened the laces and tied them securely. Alfred's eyes trailed down Arthur's exposed thighs, his eyes following the patterns on the Tudor rose that stood out against Arthur's pale skin.

"See something you like?" Arthur spoke up, and Alfred almost dropped the gun in his hands in surprise. The Brit chuckled, lowering his foot and testing his balance on them.

"U-uh, you weren't wearing those when I met you."

"Oh, these?" Arthur patted his wedge-heels. "Well, I didn't need them when I came to get you."

"W-well, um," Alfred swallowed. "I thought wearing heels was difficult, especially in the battlefield?"

Arthur grinned knowingly. "Oh, I'll assure you you'll be thankful I put these on."

"… Right." Alfred nodded after a moment of internal debate. Arthur pulled on a knapsack that had a few medical kits and ammunition in it.

"Are you ready?" he asked, gesturing at Alfred's current state, as he strapped on holsters to either of his thighs, before slotting two Glock 18's in them. For good measure, Arthur also slipped an army knife into the slot at the left side of his shorts.

"You a leftie?" Alfred asked, feeling rather unprepared at his own arsenal—he had a standard-issue HK416 semi-automatic machine gun slung over his shoulder and an ACR in his hands.

"If you mean left-handed, then yes. I see _you're _right-handed." Arthur replied offhandedly, as he picked up an MP5SD3 submachine gun. "And, you're rather unprepared, aren't you?" he shook his head, gesturing at the weapons crate with the submachine gun. "Go get yourself something else. At least a handgun or something."

Alfred did as he was told and picked up a USP from the crate, after setting down the ACR. He shoved it into his back pocket, before gathering ammunition for his three guns. He threw them all in a bag and pulled it on, before picking up the semiautomatic machine gun.

"Packing heavy artillery, are we?" Matthew spoke up from the entrance of the tent. Arthur chuckled.

"Of course. I have to make sure Alfred lives, you know." He replied, patting Alfred's shoulder. "Right?"

"Y-yeah." Alfred nodded. "Oh, we might need these," he offered, picking up a few grenades with his free hands.

"In the bags they go," Arthur said, and Alfred put four of them in his.

"What about flash bangs?"

"We're fighting zombies, Al." Matthew laughed. "You seriously think _flash bangs_ will impair them?"

"It's worth trying." Alfred pouted, and the two blondes laughed.

* * *

It was like Call of Duty all over again—and this time, it was for real.

As Alfred and Arthur pushed onwards, spilling lead into the brains of zombies left and right, Alfred got a glimpse of how it was like in the battlefield. He was panting by the time they reached the entrance of the facility. Arthur barrelled forward, Alfred close behind and slowly but surely they made it through to the highest floor of the facility.

Arthur skidded to a halt, gasping, and Alfred slowed down behind him.

"What's wro—"

The question died on his lips when Alfred saw what Arthur did—the entrance to the core was blocked by a vicious amount of freshly-made zombies, their flesh still dripping and just beginning to rot.

The green-eyed blonde pulled a face, before shoving his submachine gun into Alfred's free hand. "Well, well. I finally get to use the bloody heels." He grinned, and Alfred blinked at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused, Jones." Arthur smirked, bending low. "You can have fun with my baby Mint Bunny for now. I'm going to give you a show you won't forget."

"Wha—" Alfred began to say, fumbling to grip the two guns in his hands properly, stumbling slightly.

"One at a time, love," Arthur spoke up, "You wouldn't want to hit me." he winked at Alfred over his shoulder, before jumping up high, pulling out his Glock 18's and pointing them down at the zombies below him.

Suddenly four gunshots rang in Alfred's ears and he blinked when he saw the heels of Arthur's boots smoking. His eyes widened as he swung his ACR onto his shoulder, before cocking the submachine gun. "Your _shoes_ are guns too?" he yelled up at Arthur, who was now shooting and stepping on the zombies' heads simultaneously, staying in the air by pushing off the zombies and by the force generated by the recoil from his boots.

Alfred opened fire on zombies approaching him, still in awe at Arthur's surprise weapons.

"Holy shit, you're like freaking Bayonetta!"

"Who?" Arthur called over his gunshots from both his shoes and his handguns.

"Never mind! I'll tell you all about her later!" Alfred laughed. "Man, this is so awesome!"

"I'd like to hear you say that when I tell you the death toll this insanity has caused," Arthur called over at him, and Alfred's mood dampened.

"Well, there's that."

"Enough of that and help me finish them off so we can get to the bloody core already!"

"Of course, babe!" Alfred winked up at Arthur, and the blonde almost lost his footing when he narrowly missed stepping on the head on one zombie.

* * *

They manage to get into the core room, Arthur locking the door behind him, preventing the zombies from entering as Alfred walked over to the edge of the ledge they were standing on, and awed, he looked down to see the core—a small blue ball fizzing with energy.

"That's the core," Arthur spoke up, walking up next to Alfred.

"How do we pull the plug?"

Arthur pointed to the room down the walkway, and together, they went inside. Upon entering Alfred's eyes widened.

The room was full of pictures of him—smiling, laughing, sleeping, eating, crying, _everything_. Chills ran down Alfred's spine as Arthur walked up to the walls, where almost ever square inch was covered with papers that bore Alfred's face.

"Wh-what is this…?"

"The scientist who developed this facility… his name was Ivan Braginski. This was his office."

"Braginski? That weird Russian guy from next door?"

Arthur didn't say anything about Alfred's comment. "He had a… small obsession." He said, brushing slim fingers down a picture of Alfred, smiling brightly as he held up the championship trophy for the national American Football league. "He had a… unfortunate attachment with his high school's golden boy that was never reciprocated."

Alfred, jaw lax, walked up next to Arthur, who looked up at him, a small blush on his face.

"And frankly, I can't help but sympathize with him." He said, before moving away from Alfred, who gaped at him.

"W-wait, did you just say that you're…"

"He was a brilliant man, who excelled in science." Arthur cut him off, "He was working on a serum that could reanimate corpses. It had worked for animals—his pet dog came back to life, and everything was alright. A company agreed to fund his research and built this facility to mass-induce the drug—but no one had any idea how terrible its side-effects were."

"… Holy shit."

"It causes degeneration of cells, but the body remains animated." Arthur turned to look at Alfred. "It's communicative, too, like a virus. If you get bitten—"

"You turn into one of them too." Alfred breathed. "I remember hearing him talk about it one day. I had no idea he was serious about it."

"Yes," Arthur nodded, "He developed the core. It's a nuclear one, and there's only one way to deactivate it without it having a meltdown. It's locked with a special lock, but the key… it's very difficult to obtain."

"… And you're saying I have it?"

"… Alfred, you _are_ the key." Arthur replied, "It's locked with a DNA lock. We need your DNA to unlock it, but…"

"You said I was assassinated in your timeline." Alfred said, "Is that why? But Ivan needed an emergency shutdown key or something…"

"That's the thing. The heads of the company didn't want the production to stop, ever, because it was raking in the money by the bucket loads, before they found out about the side effect. They needed to get rid of the very thing that could bring it to a stop, you."

Alfred bit his lip. "… What part of me do you need?"

"You don't have to be so worried." Arthur smiled reassuringly at him. "It's just your hair. That was all Ivan had with him, anyway."

"I'm not going to even ask how he managed to get my hair," Alfred chuckled dryly, and Arthur chuckled as well, shaking his head. "Well, then. Let's get this shit over and done with. Where's the keyhole?"

"Here," Arthur beckoned him over to the table where there were papers strewn about. The blonde brushed them aside and revealed a small hole in the corner. "We have to drop a strand of your hair into the hole and it will go straight into the core. That will shut it down, I'm sure of it."

Alfred nodded, and Arthur pulled out his army knife before handing it to Alfred. The blue-eyed blonde sliced off a strand of his hair and slipped it into the hole. The two blondes stood in silence, patiently waiting for the hair to reach the lock—

"_Emergency shutdown commencing._" The computer's voice boomed above them, and the two shared gleeful looks.

"We did it!" Alfred cheered, before pulling Arthur into a tight hug. The green-eyed Brit spluttered, flustered, and wriggled in Alfred's embrace.

"L-let me go! G-git!"

Suddenly, the voice spoke up again.

"_Error. Emergency shutdown overwritten. The facility will now self-destruct in five minutes._"

Alfred and Arthur froze, before looking at each other, shocked looks on their faces.

"… Run!"

* * *

Francis froze upon hearing the announcement ringing above his head. Panicked, he pulled out his radio and ordered all his men to get out of the facility as fast as they could. They sprang into action, and soon they were making their hasty retreat. As he ran, he radioed Kiku's team.

"Kiku! Are you getting out of here?"

"_Getting to it,_" the man's voice crackled from the other side. "_This is shocking to hear. I hope Arthur-san and Alfred-san make it out alive_."

"Me too. You make sure you get yourself out safely."

"_You too, Francis-san._"

Francis then proceeded to radio Matthew.

"Matthieu?" he asked.

"_Getting out of here, yeah, yeah!_" the blonde's voice on the other side called, and the Frenchman chuckled. "_How about you?_"

"Doing the exact same." Francis replied. "But… what about Alfred and Arthur?"

There was silence on the other side.

"Matthieu?"

"_Hope for the best and expect the worst. Over and out._"

* * *

Hand-in-hand, Alfred and Arthur ran out of the core room to encounter more zombies. Alfred gave Arthur a boost and he was back in the air, shooting with both his hands and his feet, clearing a pathway for Alfred to progress through. He himself was shooting left and right—the two guns, the submachine gun in his right and the semiautomatic in his left—haphazardly, the weight of the two guns in his arms greatly affecting his aiming. They hit anything and everything, but at least they kept the zombies at bay. They covered each other's backs whenever they reloaded, but they couldn't make it very far from the core room.

"_Self-destruction in two minutes._"

"Holy shit!" Alfred yelled, kicking aside the dead zombie, looking up to see Arthur had stopped jumping around on zombie heads to reload his shoes and handguns. Alfred ran to his side to cover him as he did so.

"What do we do now?" Arthur panted, "We've only got a minute to go."

"I don't know," Alfred admitted, "If this was a game, I'd just do this all over again if I screw up." he smiled bitterly down at Arthur, "Too bad it isn't. I won't even get to hear how the hell you guys managed to incorporate guns into high heels."

"Technological innovation," Arthur smirked. "Brought to you by Kiku Honda."

Alfred chuckled—and then his eyes widened. "I have an idea. Give me your radio."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Alfred turned to shoot at an approaching zombie. "We might want to go somewhere safe."

"Back to the office?" Arthur offered, and Alfred shot him a desperate look. "I'm serious!"

"Alright, alright!" Alfred shook his head, before the two made their way back to the core room, running down the path of corpses they made for themselves.

* * *

Alfred and Arthur burst back into Ivan Braginski's room, and the blue-eyed teen locked the door behind soundly, panting heavily. "R-radio." He said, and Arthur unclipped it from his belt and handed it to him.

"M-Matt? Can you read me? Where are you guys?"

"_We're making our way back to the camp! Where are you two?_"

"Still inside." Alfred chuckled sadly, and Arthur eyed him worriedly as he took a seat on Ivan's desk, crossing his legs.

"_What? Why aren't the two of you trying to get out?_"

"Matt, Matt. Calm down, I have an idea."

"_I don't know, Al, when you get ideas…_"

"I swear this one will work…" Alfred glanced at Arthur who gave him an encouraging glance. "… Hopefully."

"_Alfred!_"

"Look, just get the time machine thing you used to get me here and get me back. I'm sure I'll be okay."

"_And what about Arthur?_"

"I'll take him with me." Alfred smiled at Arthur, and the green-eyed blonde blushed. "I'm sure he won't mind."

"… _Arthur?_"

"… I-I'm alright with it, yes," Arthur nodded hesitantly, and Alfred patted the blonde's shoulder.

"Don't worry about us. You guys concentrate on getting rid of those zombies, 'kay?"

"… _Stay safe_."

"You too." Alfred lowered the radio and looked at Arthur. "Well, I guess that's that."

"And now, we wait?" Arthur asked, patting the area next to him. "Sit down."

"Thanks." Alfred nodded, taking a seat next to Arthur. They sat there for a while in awkward silence, only to be broken by the computer's voice speaking up again.

"_Self-destruction in thirty seconds._"

"_Alfred_," Arthur spoke up, and the teen realised he was shaking. "I can honestly say I'm rather frightened."

"You think this isn't going to work?" Alfred asked, and Arthur looked up at him.

"…Yes. I don't want to die yet. What if only you got back, or what if they don't make it in time—"

"Okay."

Arthur's eyes widened when he felt Alfred's hand cup over his. He turned his head to look up at the taller blonde. Alfred smiled down at him. "I guess the only thing I can say is that if anything goes wrong, I'll do whatever I can to try and protect you."

"Even when the source of the blast will be right underneath us?" Arthur chuckled dryly, and Alfred smiled sadly.

"It's the thought that counts." The blue-eyed teen chuckled. "You know how they say that people are more likely to fall in love with each other when they've been through dangerous situations?"

They stared at each other for a moment, a blush spreading across Arthur's cheeks.

"I think that might be true." Alfred smiled sheepishly at Arthur, before pulling him into a hug. The green-eyed blonde tensed momentarily, but then relaxed into Alfred's torso and gingerly wrapped his arms around him as well.

"_Self-destruction in five, four, three…_"

Arthur and Alfred's grip tightened on each other as they braced themselves.

"_Two… one…_"

* * *

It all happened in a flash.

Suddenly Alfred found himself sitting in his gaming chair again, the sounds of gunshots and yelling coming from the widescreen TV across him jolting him out of his reverie. He opened his eyes, and he blinked.

Was that all just a…

_No, it wasn't, _Alfred's mind told him, when he looked down in his arms to find Arthur still clinging onto him for dear life. A relieved smile crossed his face.

They'd made it.

"Art. Artie! Arthur!" Alfred cheered, delighted, shaking the blonde in his arms out of his reverie. "We made it!"

Arthur lifted his head from Alfred's shoulder and blinked up at him. "… We're alive."

"Yeah! And we're—!"

Suddenly his door exploded behind him and he and Arthur ducked.

"They're here. The men sent to kill you." Arthur hissed, and Alfred's eyes widened—

Four gunshots rang through the air, and four bodies fell down. Arthur lowered his hands still holding onto his trusty Glock 18's (named Sherlock and John, Alfred later found out) and tucked his feet back in under him.

"That was _amazing_." Alfred breathed, looking at the dead assassins at the doorway.

"Well, it seems I've averted something?" Arthur chuckled, "Or maybe, I've just made things worse."

"If they come back, I know who _I'm _calling."

Arthur blinked at him, and chuckling, Alfred pecked him on the lips.

"I hope you're staying a little longer, babe. My apartment gets lonely at night."

After a moment of blank staring, Arthur eventually smiled. "Oh, fine. But only because you're a git that's an assassin magnet."

"Ooh, I like the ass part."

"Brat." Arthur chuckled, before pulling him in for a proper kiss.

* * *

Terrible plot development, I know. I'm not cut out for oneshots, honestly.

Well, then. Please wait for the others, ne? The winner of the poll gets to be a multichapter fic and shall be dispersed throughout this fic series!

(So, what I'm saying is, chapter one of the winning fic will be up next week! Yay!)

Next Prompt! ScienceNerd!Alfred and PopularKid!Arthur!

... Bukkun typed all this just earlier before she had dinner... 8D


	2. Groovy 1 The Science Project

The overall winner of the poll!

1. Groovy (Prompt: ScienceNerd!Alfred and PopularKid!Arthur)

First place! This one is a multichapter one, so wait it out~

Warnings: Has immature teenagers and lots of swearing. Also, there's a surprise crossover in celebration for its first year anniversary.

* * *

Unwavering blue eyes hidden behind opaque glasses stared down the note messily taped to his locker.

_NeRd! U fUckIng lOser!_

Another note, another day.

Alfred F. Jones tore the note off his locker and discarded it on the ground in a heartbeat, seemingly unfazed as he pulled his locker open—

Ah, so it had worked, he thought to himself dryly, glancing at the back of the door to find the heavy-duty duct tape he had put over the holes on the door from the inside had protected his locker's insides from today's assault. He peeled the tape off to find maple syrup sticking to it.

Silently, he replaced the tape (he had a roll of duct tape and a pair of scissors in his locker), before changing his books around in his bag, putting the ones he didn't need inside the locker, the ones he needed into his bag.

"Move it, loser!" he heard the gruff voice of some bonehead senior sneer at him as his door slammed against his arm, making Alfred wince. He peered out at what was coming towards him—for seniors bulldozing a way through the corridor usually meant—

Oh, shit, _yes_.

Alfred's breath hitched in his throat as he saw who it was walking down the hallway, tailed by three taller seniors—the beautiful, sharp-tongued, feisty-fierce Arthur Kirkland, resident Sexy Brit of his shit high school, school favourite and Alfred's unfortunate love interest.

Unfortunate, meaning, Alfred's has barely half a rat's arse chance at getting Arthur to so much as _glance _at him, let alone reciprocate his feelings.

They were talking, Arthur and his _friends_ (Alfred refused to think they _were _friends—there is a fine line between _friend_ and _groupie_, and frankly, Alfred thought they were more of the latter,), snarky laughter escaping Arthur's full lips, green eyes sweeping left and right sexily like some Victoria's Secret model trying to score some hot guy in the crowd to do him right then and there, on the catwalk that was the school's corridor.

Now, _that_ was an idea.

Alfred's cheeks flushed and quickly, he turned to face his locker to hide his oncoming blush and problem between his legs. Inwardly, he cursed his teenaged hormones and quietly as he could, he snuck away to class.

* * *

Science class the both the best and the worst for Alfred, the best because he _loved_ science (his dream is to work at NASA, it doesn't matter if he doesn't become an astronaut, just _being_ there was colossal on its own) and because funnily enough, in his three years there at that shithole of a high school, he has shared this class with Arthur without fail. It's the worst _because_ Arthur is in his class—all the more chances he may screw up in making an impression on his head-over-heels crush.

He shuffles quietly into the class and takes a seat on the second row—not _too_ close to the front to make himself look more like a nerd than he already does, but not too far away to miss out on whatever the teacher was talking about—next to his friend, a Japanese immigrant, Kiku Honda.

"Hey," he said in greeting, taking a seat to the black-haired teen, who was busily tapping away at his PSP, most likely playing some silly porn-y game from his home country. Alfred glances at the tiny screen and sighs in relief—it's a normal fighting game this time, thank God.

"Good morning," Kiku greets, not looking up from up from the PSP. "It's nice to be in this class with you again."

"Yep." Alfred nodded. "I hope we'll be partners for the project again," he said, leaning back on his seat, only to hear some bonehead sneer at him from the back.

"Yeah, so you two nerds can be two goody-two-shoes again and be the fuckin' teacher's pets again like the losers you are!"

Alfred's hand curls into a fist and Kiku's pries itself away from his PSP to grip his wrist, holding him back.

"It is not worth it," Kiku quietly told him, finally looking at Alfred, before pointing at the door, as his other hand shut his PSP off. Alfred looked to the doorway to see a young blue-eyed brunette standing at the doorway, a stern expression on his face. A folder was tucked under his arm.

Oh. _He _was the teacher?

"Now, that wasn't a very nice thing to say," he scolded, and Alfred realised he had a British accent. _Another Brit in my life. Swell._ Alfred dryly thought to himself as the brunette man walked up to the teen sitting at the back, left arm akimbo, holding onto the folder, whilst his right was raised, index finger pointed to reprimand. "Apologise to him, now."

"What if I don' want ta?" the teen scoffed at him, "You don't look _anything_ like a teacher ta me."

"Oh, really?" the brunette grinned wryly, bringing up his right hand to his temple to discreetly scratch it with two fingers. The teen's eyes widened. "Mister… Brians," the teen gaped at him. "Off to the principal's office for you for misconduct against a teacher." The grin on the brunette's face widened slightly, "Oh, maybe I should toss in physical bullying as well for what you did to little Tommy Fisher earlier before the bell rang?"

The teen paled, and Alfred resisted the urge to laugh, snickering behind his hand. "Well, off you go," the brunette teacher smiled down at him like one would to a small child. Quickly, he wrote something down on a sheet of memo paper he pulled out of his folder and handed it to the teen. "Or I'll throw in an hour of detention, as well."

Quickly, the teen got to his feet and scrambled to the door. The brunette sighed and shook his head, before making his way to the teacher's desk and putting his folder down. He smiled at Alfred, his bright blue eyes warm and kind. "Are you alright?"

"… Never better." Alfred slowly grinned, before turning to look at Kiku, who was also slightly smiling. "I think I'm going to like this guy," he hissed at Kiku.

The black-haired teen nodded. "Yes. I think I'm going to like him too." Somehow, the brunette teacher merely smiled and lowered his head to read the papers in his folder.

Soon the other students filed in—Arthur included, and Alfred's heart soared, he knew they'd be in the same Science class again—and soon everyone was present, save for the boy the brunette teacher sent to the principal's office.

"Well, are we all here then?" the brunette spoke up, looking up from his folder. A warm smile spread across his face, and Alfred heard the girls murmur about themselves, 'he's adorable!' or 'what a cutie! Look at his eyes!' Ignoring them soundly, Alfred turned his attention to the brunette man in front.

"My name's Charles Xavier." The brunette smiled at them. "I'll be your teacher for this year."

_Definitely _interesting. Alfred grinned.

* * *

"… And that's it." Charles' smile was still there, never leaving his face ever since the beginning of the class, and for once, Alfred noted with wonder, there were no interruptions; save for when the student that came back from the principal's room came back. For once, the class actually listened to what he had to say.

"Now, moving on to the topic you've all been thinking about," he chuckled, pulling out a piece of paper from his folder. "I've got a list of topics for your year-long science project."

"Year-long?" someone cried out, and Charles lifted his hand to silence them, taking a seat.

"Yes, your science projects will take the entire year to do. Don't worry, though, I've scheduled it out already for you guys so it's not that heavy." His smile was thoroughly reassuring, and Alfred vaguely wondered if he could be partners with Kiku again. Suddenly, Charles smiled at him knowingly, before resting his elbow on the table, two fingers up and touching his temple. "And another thing, _I'll _be doing the choosing for who your partners will be."

The class broke out in utters and Charles shushed them all by simply placing his free index finger to his lips. "Now, let's see…"

His blue eyes scanned the classroom.

"Karpusi," he spoke up, and a brunette teen sleeping near the window jolted awake. Charles chuckled, before looking around again. "And… Honda."

Kiku's eyes widened like saucers and he looked at Alfred.

The two friends gaped at each other as Charles began pairing people together.

"Oh my god, you got Karpusi!" Alfred hissed delightedly, grabbing Kiku's hands and shaking them as wildly as he could without catching too much attention. "It's your lucky day!"

"I-I-I do not know how to handle this," Kiku breathed, light-headed as a flush painted his usually pale cheeks red. "I-I-I…"

"And Jones." Charles spoke up and Alfred snapped to attention. The brunette gave him a knowing smile and Alfred felt a strange sensation go down his spine. His head started spinning, and suddenly he felt lightheaded. He began to precariously sway on his seat, as Kiku looked at him with concern. "Your partner is Kirkland."

Holy shit.

_Holy shit._

_Holy **freaking **shit._

Alfred's mind went on overload and the next thing he knew, he was looking up at the ceiling of the clinic. He sat up, alarmed, and next to him, he heard a familiar voice let out a squeak of surprise. He groped for his glasses on the bedside table, and putting them on, he turned his head to see Charles sitting down on a chair next to his bed.

"M-Mr. Xavier?" Alfred stuttered, and the blue-eyed brunette sighed.

"I'm so, so very sorry, Alfred," he apologised, "It seems I got too carried away." His shoulders sunk and he gripped his knees. "I must have pushed your mind a little too hard."

"… What?" Alfred blinked, and suddenly Charles jolted.

"I-I-I mean, sorry about that, uh, Arthur's just outside, I'll leave you two to talk about your topic, okay?"

"W-wait, what did you mean by—"

"Right, I have to go," Charles quickly said, getting up, before dashing out of the clinic. As soon as he did, Arthur sauntered into the room, casting an uninterested glance at Alfred as he sat down on the chair Charles previously occupied.

"So." Arthur spoke up, crossing one leg over the other. "You're Jones."

"Y-yeah." Alfred nodded, trying to fight the oncoming blush attacking his cheeks. Arthur raised a(n unusually thick) eyebrow and eyed him warily. "U-uh, what's our topic?"

"Genetics. Xavier's pulling some bollocks of a joke on us." Arthur scowled, before showing Alfred the piece of paper he had with him. "And we're already supposed to be meeting up this weekend, says his timetable."

_Meeting up._ "L-like coming over to my place or something?" Alfred stuttered, hoping to heaven high his giddiness isn't showing in his tone.

"… Hm. Alright." Arthur dismissively says, waving his hand. "Let's talk about this tomorrow."

It works, either that or Arthur doesn't mind. The blonde stands up and heads for the door, and Alfred couldn't help but stare at Arthur's arse accented through his unusually tight pants. A flush dyes his face red, when suddenly Arthur turns his head to address Alfred over his shoulder.

"Catch you later." Arthur huskily drawls, licking his full lips and winking, before walking out of the room, his hips swaying a little more than usual.

Alfred swallowed, suddenly realising his mouth had gone dry.

"… Man. I'm not sure if Mr. Xavier is a saint or my personal escort to hell."

* * *

I had a lot of fun attempting to Characterize Young!Charles Xavier. Yes, I'm currently obsessing over Marvel heroes, mainly the Avengers and X-Men: First Class (Okay, this one's a little late, but bear with me), and frankly, it's eating up a lot of my time, hahaha. XD

Groovy will be having 6-7 chapters, depending on the plot development. Please wait for further chapters!

Next Prompt! Siren!Arthur and Pirate!Alfred!

... Bukkun speed-typing **GO**!...**  
**


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